


Gimme Shelter

by apairofglasses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apairofglasses/pseuds/apairofglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After James and Lily's deaths, Harry is never brought to the Dursleys. Instead, honoring the late Potters' wishes, Remus and Severus move into Godric's Hollow together to raise a one-year-old infant in spite of their grief and having suddenly become two very unprepared and inexperienced guardians in their early twenties. Domestic antics ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

November, 1981

Remus sat on the dusty green colored sofa in the small parlor of Godric’s Hollow with his eyes carefully trained on the small child playing on the rug at his feet. The trauma of what had happened was all at once incomprehensible and so viscerally painful he could not yet begin to conceptualize how he would go on, beyond the fact that Harry was alone now and needed someone to look after him. It was only the smallest comfort, more of a distraction, really, that Harry needed looking after and he knew it could not last, given Remus’s lycanthropy, youth, and general incompetence with children. But for now at least, Remus sat and watched little Harry play with his blocks, oblivious of the chaos out on the street, even now almost two weeks after the event. 

It was practically dusk and there were still witches and wizards milling about in the square, whispering to one another, trying to catch a glimpse of “the boy who lived” or some evidence of destruction, all of which had been mostly confined to little Harry’s bedroom and had already been tidied up by Remus days before the service. 

And then there was Severus, whose presence was more heavy and brooding in his mourning, who had been there the night it had happened, and who was still here now speaking in hushed tones to Albus Dumbledore in the hall just outside the parlor where the main entrance let in. 

Severus stood hunched with his arms folded and a cross expression forced onto his tired face. “It’s nonsense,” he muttered under his breath. 

“It is what James and Lily wanted when we spoke of… arrangements,” Dumbledore assured him with all the warmth he could summon after the last weeks’ exhaustions. 

“Lily, perhaps,” Severus conceded, “but James? James Potter would not leave his only son in the guardianship of someone like— someone like—“ 

“I think Lily cared and trusted someone like you rather a lot and I know through her encouragement James was able to agree that along with Masters Remus Lupin and… Sirius Black, you would be able to provide Harry with the guidance and support they would have wanted for him,” Dumbledore said.

Severus swallowed thickly and forced his red-rimmed eyes to meet his former Headmaster’s. “Well, they were certainly wrong about fucking Black, wouldn’t you agree? And in case you’ve forgotten, that one in there,” he jabbed a finger towards Remus sitting motionless in the room just around the hall, “very nearly tore my throat open at sixteen and you know damn well why I’ve got no business raising a bloody child.”

“Severus, when you came to me in despair I saw a good man, the same good you’ve been since you first arrived at Hogwarts. You do not, nor do you want to see that and yes, you have been misguided, as have all great wizards. The important thing is that you find your way back,” said Dumbledore.

“And what of the request I made on that night?” Severus spat, feeling sadness and crushing it with anger.

Dumbledore paused and then sighed. “I’m afraid I must refuse your application for employment, Severus.”

Severus’s eyes widened for a fraction of a moment wherein he almost lost the mask he was desperately trying to keep on. He didn’t open his mouth for fear of what might come out of it.

Dumbledore looked toward the parlor, inviting Severus’s gaze, and together they watched the child coo and play and the young man who looked as if he’d aged twelve years in the last week stare numbly at Harry.

“You are needed here, Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly, but firmly and Severus found he had used up all his words barraging himself in punishments until his mind and his tongue were too tired to argue anymore. 

So, he didn’t.


	2. Transformation

It had only been a week and Remus was so tired of feeling devastated, of coming to the realization over and over again that every single person he’d held dear was gone. Severus too was exhausted and couldn’t decide who he liked less—his old school enemy who’d taken to dusting their new tomb of a home relentlessly or the steadily dissolving group of dark followers he’d once called friends. Severus nor Remus was able to secure other suitable living arrangements or felt so inclined to turn down Dumbledore’s generous offer. 

Neither man had very much to move, Remus even less than Severus. They agreed that Remus should take the master bedroom and Severus the slightly smaller guest just down the hall. 

Severus had cauldrons and vials and parchments with his own scribblings on them and Remus had books, heaps and heaps of them. Remus carefully removed the smiling, waving photographs of James and Lily that were still scattered about their old bedroom and Severus cluttered his own room so much it lost it’s airiness and transformed into the sort of cramped, dark space he was used to.

Remus was glad for the distraction that his new responsibilities provided. When Harry was napping, Remus was sorting through the kitchen or scourging the library for good books to read while Severus grieved alone and avoided looking at the child or his green eyes.

Harry’s room was fixed up as if nothing had ever happened and Remus was often successful at putting him down to sleep there, but then the child woke almost every night screaming with night terrors. It was Remus, not Severus, who started awake and rushed down the hallway to rock Harry in his arms and eventually, bring him to sleep with him in his own bed. 

They had been living together for almost one and half weeks and sometimes the most Remus saw of Severus was a brief passing in the morning as Remus heated the milk for Harry’s bottle and Severus made tea before going out to do things he would not tell Remus about.

Severus and Remus had spoken to one another clipped and cordially during the last few days when the situation called for it and nothing more. Remus was more than reluctant to seek an audience with Severus now about the thing that would happen the following Saturday, especially since Severus was one of the very few people who had actually bore witness to the beast. 

“Please, Severus,” Remus had pleaded quietly when both men had had a chance to read over James and Lily’s last will and testament. “It was what they wanted,” he’d said, hearing the words leave his mouth and still in disbelief that they were true. “You know what I am… I can’t do this without you.”

Severus hadn’t returned with his decision until after speaking with Dumbledore. And though he surely realized that his presence there was necessary in myriad ways—Remus’s absence during his transformations as well as his inability to find work because of the condition—he’d kept his interaction with both Remus and Harry to a minimum until today.

Remus was in the second floor library absentmindedly using a light dusting charm on the stacks as he read through the titles when Severus found him. He cleared his throat and Remus started, turning to meet Severus’s grim expression from where he was standing in the library entrance.

“Severus,” Remus greeted, his voice stiff from hours of dust and forced politeness.

“Lupin,” he answered sourly, though not exactly with the same sort of venom he’d have used during their years at Hogwarts. “The full moon is in four days time. Dumbledore assures me you have accommodations ready and I would like to know what they are as well as inspect them. I would feel much more… comfortable if I were privy to the intricacies of this routine as long as it is taking place under my own roof.”

“Yes.” Remus agreed, “In fact, I was planning to talk to you about this as soon as you had returned home.”

He was only a little bit annoyed at Severus for turning up and making demands when he was hardly making his own schedule or whereabouts known.

“The transformation starts a bit earlier around this time of year,” Remus explained, leading Severus down the steps and out a back door in the pantry. He didn’t know how much Severus really was interested in learning about werewolves but agreed that Severus had a right to know. And anyway, his speaking about it however tangentially was distracting from the nerves he felt that sent his pulse racing and made his neck burn with humiliation. 

“Here.” Remus gestured to a trap door almost hidden in brambles of an overgrown garden in the frozen backyard of Godric’s Hollow. “It is an old shelter Dumbledore told me. It’s… very… deep…” Remus said as he struggled to lift the heavy door off it’s hinges, “and I’ve stocked the inside with bindings I have used all my life.”

He paused, waiting for Severus to say something. When he didn’t, he asked, “Would you like to go inside and see for yourself?”

Severus scowled into the deep dark hole with disgust and sniffed, “If I must,” he answered tightly and climbed down into the shelter.

Remus followed and watched Severus examine the shackles that now lined the moldy walls, tapping the walls and the bindings with his wand. Remus watched and bit his lip and wondered how it was that the shame of this thing would always be as consuming as it had been when he was a child. 

Severus finally pocketed his wand and turned to Remus nodding tersely, “This will do,” he said before leading them out of the shelter and back into the house where it was considerably warmer.

“There’s something else,” said Remus, not wanting Severus to retreat to his bedroom or leave Godric’s Hollow for somewhere secret and mysterious.

“The child,” Severus agreed.

“He’s been waking at nine and having a bottle of warm milk. The bottles are in that cupboard there, and you’ll need to test the milk on the back of your hand to make sure it’s not too hot for him. Then he plays a bit and you can read him a story or just set him down with some of his blocks and keep an eye on him. Usually he gets tired and takes a nap around ten and when he wakes back up he’ll need feeding. Give him the milk again the same way and some mashed potatoes or carrots, very, very small—and make sure its not too big and that he can swallow easily…”

Remus lifted a heavily dog-eared book out of one of the kitchen cupboards. “This has been a really great resource, if you’ve any questions about the milk or the food or if he’s crying, which reminds me if he needs changing…” Remus flipped to a page illustrated with diagrams of babies and nappies, “It’s not as bad as it seems. I’ll show you once before you’ll need to do it of course. Oh, and don’t leave him in his wet, he’ll get a rash.”

Remus looked up at his audience and almost laughed at the face Severus was making and continued. “After he eats lunch, you’ll have to clean him up with a nice warm towel and perhaps change him. He’ll play some more but he’s really very independent and quite good at amusing himself but you still have to watch he doesn’t crawl and pull something heavy down on his head… Let’s see, what else…”

Remus considered for a moment. “He’s sometimes fussy at night, especially after you change him into his pajamas, he might not want to go to sleep straight away. Usually if I rock him for a while, he falls asleep and you can leave him in the crib, but he often wakes in the middle of the night and you must try to soothe him. I think he’s having very awful nightmares. Of course, most of this you needn’t worry about this Saturday. I will be able to take care of him until supper and then I will need to retire to the shelter where I’ll be until the morning. It is an exhausting ordeal, the transformation, but I will try to be ready to take care of him as soon as possible.”

“Do you have a general estimate of when that will be?” Severus asked.

Remus sighed. “Some days are better than others. Hopefully I can be back on my feet by the afternoon. Sometimes I require more rest, but no later than eight-o-clock. And of course, I’m leaving you all these notes and Harry’s books and toys.”

Severus’s expression lost it’s usual commitment to looking fearsome and stern and for a fraction of a second revealed the face of an overwhelmed child, just as scared and desperate as Remus felt. “All right,” he said simply after a moment of rumination.

“All right,” Remus agreed quietly, and after a beat.

Remus felt absolutely sick, worse than he’d felt in some time on the eve of his transformation, and he was still fixing dinner for Harry as well as Severus who had remained at the house very responsibly all day and had even practiced changing Harry’s nappie earlier in the afternoon. Remus’s fingers were shaking badly as he ladled the boiled carrots into one of Harry’s little bowls and though he tried to hide it from Severus, he could feel his limbs weakening by the minute and was forced to confront how very little control he had when it became this time of the month.

Severus was watching him, Remus’s features screwed up in concentration as he tried to block out the dizziness and the nausea threatening to overpower him. 

“Lupin,” he said, sounding awfully a lot like a stern professor attempting to assert himself on a particularly aggravating student, “It’s time. You should go.”

Harry beamed at Remus from his highchair and banged his spoon on the tray in excitement for the carrots he knew were in his future. Remus huffed a small painful laugh and handed Severus the bowl of steamed carrot. “Don’t give him too much at once or you’ll find yourself wearing it,” he warned.

“Yes, I think I can figure it out from here,” Severus snapped irritably, gesturing towards the pantry, “Now, go.”

And Remus obliged listening to the sounds of Harry’s happy laughter fade away as he trudged across the frozen grass and lifted himself shakily into the shelter for the long night ahead.

“Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba!” Harry shrieked, smiling up at Severus who only glared back, not entirely certain how to answer the child.

It was around two-o-clock in the morning and just as Remus had guessed, Severus had been woken by Harry’s screams after he’d successfully put both himself and the child down for the night. Now, he was standing over Harry’s crib, holding the child to his chest and just barely swaying, putting pressure on one foot and then to the other and then back again.

The child was warm all over. And sweaty in a way that was both disgusting and made Severus fear that the child had caught a fever. However, his forehead felt naturally warm and a quick scan of the book Remus had left revealed that some babies could sweat a lot in their sleep. Severus decided after checking the infant’s nappie and offering him another bottle, that he was healthy, but also distinctly not tired.

Which was not exactly part of Severus’s plan and irritating because he very much wanted to climb back into his own bed. He wondered how many nights Remus had spent sleepless when Severus wasn’t there.

“Ba, ba, ba,” Harry said, now more quietly expressing what appeared to be the only phoneme he knew. 

He curled peacefully into Severus, resting his moist head just underneath Severus’s chin and becoming a dead weight in his arms as he drifted asleep again. He had such a peaceful look of blankness on his face. He appeared so young and small with his mouth hanging open getting drool on Severus’s pajamas, his flushed cheeks, his nose that was so small he hadn’t yet developed a bridge of it to define his features. He was the strangest little creature Severus had ever seen and as he stood there, moonlight streaming through the closed curtains, rocking Harry far past how long it might have been necessary, he almost felt comforted. Like he was a boy and his mother was holding him close, letting him soak her blouse with tears spilt over a skinned knee. He hadn’t felt anything like it in years.

Outside the window, he wondered if he could hear the werewolf that had certainly taken Remus’s place hours ago. Every rustle and crack sent prickles down his spine—a fear that Remus’s precautions hadn’t been enough, that the dark beast that wasn’t his new even-tempered housemate could be heard scraping and scratching and howling in its underground prison. 

Harry would sleep but Severus would not. Not until Remus was a man again and he dragged himself back up into this eerie little room where their friends had been murdered. He was still afraid of the animal he’d encountered in his sixth year. He held Harry a bit closer. His heart was warmed. And that frightened him just a little bit more.


	3. The Enchanted Record Player

Severus worked straight through the holidays at St. Mungos where he’d been hired to brew remedies and other potions for medical use. The shifts were long but the work brought in a fair amount of money to support the baby as well as the unemployable werewolf. Being the newest grunt worker hired, he was stuck with the longest, most difficult shifts and was always on call for emergencies. He also had access to potions ingredients and instruments that would have otherwise been impossible to procure as well as a workspace to conduct his own potions work if he desired. 

However, the hospital kept Severus too busy for him to engage in his own work. The occupation was less dignified than he would have chosen for himself if hadn’t suddenly acquired two mouths to feed, but the work suited him and gave him quite a lot of time alone to think and to brood. While the situation was unpleasant now, Severus had no doubt he would be able to work his way up through the ranks and perhaps soon be able to afford to move out of the tomb of his new home.

There wasn’t enough money to do much for their first Christmas with Harry. The holidays weren’t only lacking in luster at Godric’s Hollow. The wizarding world had endured one of its most harrowing times both politically and economically, and there were too many recently lost for jubilant celebrations. Molly Weasley was kind enough to send a Christmas card to Remus and the baby with apologies of being unable to afford a proper Christmas present for either. She didn’t include Severus’s name in the card but both men received equal helpings of lemon drops from their old Headmaster, which were placed in the parlor in an old dusty bowl Remus had found and promptly forgotten.

Severus paid the Malfoys a brief visit by invitation the week before Christmas, an invitation he hadn’t been entirely sure he’d wanted to accept. It was the first time seeing his old friends since the Dark Lord had vanished and the Malfoys, like the other Death Eaters he’d communicated with, seemed confused and frightened. Severus wanted to ask his former upperclassman, who he had always looked up to for guidance, if he was of the opinion The Dark Lord had really been destroyed and what Lucius’s plans were if he, in fact, wasn’t.

But Lucius seemed as determined as all of the others to pretend he’d had no involvement whatsoever in The Dark Lord’s plans and quickly changed the subject twice when Severus brought it up before Severus pursed his lips and pushed the concerns to the back of his mind. 

It was strange having a baby of his own to compare to little Draco. The scrawny, red-faced infant screamed petulantly throughout the entire dinner despite Narcissa and the house elves’ best efforts. It was just as awful as Harry’s wailing in the middle of the night and Severus wondered for the hundredth time in the last few months why people had children when they were just so annoying.

“Merry Christmas, Severus,” Narcissa said, seeing Severus out. She looked drawn and tired, a shade of the dynamic woman she’d once been. She handed him a parcel. “For the baby,” she said.

He accepted the unexpected gift and took her hand. “Thank you.”

The gift was a rattle, small, and probably not as nice as one little Draco would receive for Christmas, but thoughtful nonetheless. 

He passed it off to his housemate after returning home. Remus gave it to Harry to shake while he was preparing his meals and the child was content to explore the few sounds it had been poorly enchanted with and squeal with delight each time it elicited the crackly growl of a tiger or the sputtering trumpet of an elephant. 

One morning, while Remus and Severus were both waiting for the kettle to boil, Harry shook the rattle and it made a sound like a muggle car horn honking and he shrieked, looking directly up at Severus with both excitement and an expression that so clearly read, “Isn’t this neat?” Remus gave his housemate a pointed look and Severus said gruffly, “Yes, that’s… fantastic,” before forgetting all about the tea and flooing off to work. 

“Do you have any family you’d like to visit for the holidays?” Remus tentatively asked Severus another morning at the kettle. Remus knew so little about the other man and wanted to respect the privacy Severus clearly valued, but was also deeply uncomfortable with the fact that he was now relying entirely on this person he’d bullied throughout school. Before the tragedy, he’d been drifting between cheap inns and friends’ couches, relying on handouts some days for food. His standard of living was considerably better now despite the heartache and new child rearing responsibility, and he had Severus Snape to begrudgingly thank for that.

“No,” Severus answered with no further explanation as he stirred cream into his tea, “And yourself?”

“My mum passed away two years ago,” he said, “and my da and I never got along too well with me being a…” he gestured vaguely with his hand, which Severus took to mean “vile, ungodly creature.” “He’s old now and I don’t like to trouble him when it’s not necessary.”

Severus knew through Death Eater intelligence about Remus’s muggle mother’s death and Lyall Lupin’s responsibility, and distaste, for his son’s condition. Severus watched Remus finish his story, sip his tea, burn his tongue, and then spill hot tea down the front of his pajamas, which Harry found highly amusing (Severus more quietly so.)

“Scourgify!” Remus muttered, flushing, and Severus smirked into his teacup.

***

The days were short, the nights were long, and Harry kept Remus up most of the night whenever he woke up from a bad dream. Remus barely left the house unless it was for his transformation and otherwise he viewed the gloomy, dull sky from the window in Harry’s nursery. It snowed heavily over the lifeless landscape.

It was after noon and already dark when Severus returned home from a particularly long and brutal overnight shift at St. Mungos. He stepped out of the fireplace, brushing ash off of his work robes and headed quietly towards his bedroom to avoid waking Harry if the child was asleep. Severus hadn’t slept or been home since the day before yesterday so he pulled on a nightshirt and planned to rest until he was needed back at the hospital. 

Through the wall that separated his room from Remus’s he heard a soft sound that reminded him of something from long ago. He went to Remus’s door to investigate, nap forgotten.

Remus jumped when he saw Severus in the doorway and brushed his unwashed hair out of his face as he looked up from what he was leaning over. “Oh—Severus. I didn’t hear you come back.”

Severus shrugged, biting his tongue on a sarcastic retort about the inanity of Remus’s comment. 

Remus was tired and hadn’t bathed in days for lack of motivation, what with his only company being a one-year-old. He followed Severus’s gaze to the thing he’d previously been fiddling with. 

“I found these the other day,” he said, gesturing to a cardboard box filled with what looked like stacks of records. “I thought, if James kept these around he probably had something to play them on. I had a look and found this in the closet. I don’t think they ever had a chance to unpack it.”

Severus stood for a moment more in the doorway, caught in his indecision to return to his room or investigate a relic of his past before walking across the dusty hardwood floor and sitting down beside Remus.

“It’s Lily’s,” he said, trailing his fingers delicately over the record player he remembered from his youth at Spinner’s End.

Remus shot him an inquisitive look but said nothing.

“I know this song. It’s The Rolling Stones, isn’t it?” Severus continued, admiring the muggle contraption. It was playing by magic now, an enchantment Lily had surely put in place when the machine no longer functioned as the muggles had intended.

“Yeah,” Remus confirmed, “It’s a song called ‘Ruby Tuesday.’ My mum fancied it a lot when I was a boy.”

For a moment Severus was back on the pink wool rug in Lily’s bedroom. His father was drunk. Again. But it didn’t matter because he’d snuck in through Lily’s window and she said, “Shh, Sev, this one is my favorite!” and they sat together in their pajamas listening to the same soft sound Severus was hearing now. The same soft sound Lily would never get to hear again.

Remus watched Severus’s impassive face flicker with a hint of emotion and coughed quietly. “Your dad. He… he was a muggle too, right?”

Severus glared at Remus before spitting out, “My father was nothing like your precious muggle mother. Isn’t it just like Gryffindors to charge straight ahead into other people’s personal lives.”

“Excuse me for trying to make this some sort of functional relationship,” Remus retorted, frowning.

“Is that the same integrity you’ve taken with your appearance? When was the last time you had a bath anyway? And ‘relationship?’ Please. The only reason I’m here is because you’re not fit to raise a child by yourself, or do much of anything in your condition,” Severus snapped sourly.

Remus clenched his jaw and turned away from Severus’s cold gaze, feeling more disgusted by himself than he had in weeks. Severus was correct, even if he was being a prick and even if it was ironic that greasy old Severus Snape was sitting there telling him to wash his hair. “Right. Well, as your business partner I think it’s fair that I at least know where you’re going when you go out. Especially since I’m here with the baby in my unreliable condition.” 

“…I’ve been going to see some Death Eaters,” Severus said, smirking as the effect he’d been looking for was achieved and Remus gasped in alarm. “Not because I have intentions of backing out of our arrangement,” he continued silkily, “but because I wanted to know what if any plans existed and because some of them… had been my friends.”

“And do they have plans?” Remus asked.

“No. Not in the way you would imagine. Most plan to pretend as though they’d been acting under the Imperius curse and relinquish all responsibility as if nothing ever happened at all,” Severus spat, his face screwing up in rage he’d not been able to express to anyone, including himself, since he’d learned of the path former Death Eaters were planning to take.

“So, no one’s going to be held accountable then.” It was a statement, not a question.

Remus suddenly reached for the back pocket of his pajama bottoms and Severus thought he might be drawing his wand but instead he pulled out a beaten up pack of cigarettes. “Do you smoke?” he offered, holding out the box.

“Well, Remus Lupin, I’d have never guessed. Where did you get them?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow at the man’s sudden display of deviancy, but took the cigarette and allowed Remus to light it for him with his wand.

“These were my mum’s. I picked them up last time I was home.” Remus flicked his wand and one of the windows over the bed creaked about half way open. He took a drag and leaned back to blow the smoke toward it. 

There was a crackle and a click as the needle broke out of the groove and started to bounce over the still spinning record. Remus lifted it carefully off the turntable and slid it back into its sleeve. He gestured toward the cardboard box filled with records. “You can pick one.” 

Severus flipped through the albums and chose one he recognized. He placed it on the turntable himself and laid down the needle, watching the record spin round and round and then, “…here to sing this lovely ballad… here is… Mama Cass…” crackled through the speakers. “…Stars shining bright above you… Night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’…”

“My mum used to play this as a lullaby,” Remus said to himself.

So had Mrs. Evans.

Severus turned toward a cluttered bookcase beside him and picked up bookend, letting the five books it had been holding up fall against one another on their sides. He transfigured the awful metal statue into an ashtray and tapped his fag against the side before pushing it with his foot towards Remus who did the same.

Whatever tension that had been there seemed to lift with the smoke rising to the ceiling and Severus was unsettled sharing the moment with the other man. It was nice—too nice for people who should still be mourning the sudden loss of their friends and too nice for people who were supposed to be enemies. 

Sunlight streamed through the fog and into the pane of the window making patchy bright spots on the hard wood floor. Severus wanted to squirm with the restlessness of feeling good for once. For feeling like Remus wasn't just his partner of circumstance, but his contemporary. 

The moment was gone before either could put their finger on it.

***

It was four in the morning when Harry’s screams woke Remus, who stumbled out of bed and hurried to Harry’s room, pulling his robe around him as he walked. He wrapped his arms around the screaming child and rocked him gently.

“Oh, Harry, shh, shh, what’s wrong?” he mumbled sleepily to the crying boy. There was a creak in the old wooden floor and Remus looked up to see Severus, his arms folded across his chest and face screwed up in annoyance.

“Can’t you make him shut up? Some of us have work in an hour,” Severus growled, though the effect was lost in his tousled up hair and rumpled pajamas. 

“Make yourself useful then and take him a minute, will you? I’m going to go get some milk,” Remus said.

Severus allowed Remus to pass Harry into his arms and looked down at the baby with extreme distaste before getting an idea that sent him stomping straight to Remus’s room.

Remus returned a few minutes later with a warm bottle under his arm but tiptoed up the stairs and down the hall because he couldn’t hear Harry anymore and hoped Severus had somehow managed to lull him to sleep and not done something awful like toss him out the window. 

When he didn’t find them in Harry’s nursery, he checked Severus’s room and when they weren’t there either, Remus followed the sound of the record player back to his own bedroom where he was greeted by the sight of Severus slowly rocking sleeping Harry in his arms to the same record they’d been listening to before.

Severus caught Remus’s eye from where he was standing in the doorway. “Merlin, this kid’s a fucking furnace,” he hissed.

Remus chuckled softly at Severus’s nigh constant complaining despite the fact that, as he was currently proving, he was actually quite good with babies. He moved towards his bed and climbed onto his side, pulling back the covers on the other. “Just lay him here so we don’t have to go to the nursery if he wakes up again,” he whispered, gesturing to the space beside him.

Severus moved to the bed and gently started to lay Harry down next to Remus, but almost as soon as he started, Harry began to twist and whine. Severus and Remus shared an exhausted and exasperated look before Severus finally just eased himself onto his back in the space in Remus’s bed Remus had just reserved for Harry.

“What are you doing?” Remus whispered a bit more loudly than necessary.

“I’m going to sleep. I have work in an hour,” Severus repeated with the best glare he could muster before his eyes fell shut and he was asleep beside Remus, Harry rising and falling on his chest with each shallow breath of deep slumber. Remus watched the two disheveled messes snooze with tired amusement for as long as he could before he joined them.


	4. Steps

Harry wasn’t speaking or walking. Remus said he had heard that babies could have stunted development because of trauma in their early lives. Severus suggested that the boy was merely lazy, an unfortunate side effect of being the spawn of James Potter. Remus, as usual, ignored him.

Severus no longer visited former death eaters, disgusted by what he now realized had been a cowardly group of followers guided not by the pursuit of excellence but by fear. His dark mark was only just starting to fade. He kept it covered but found himself tracing it under his sleeve with the fingernail on his forefinger often. It wasn’t a scar he would soon heal from.

Remus on the other hand had begun to feel trapped and isolated spending most of his time alone or with the baby. It was conversation he missed most, which was why he often jumped at the chance to engage Severus in a chat. Even when Severus was feeling generous, he tended to say little but Remus still wanted their small interactions. They made him feel much less lonely.

Remus was in the kitchen having a cigarette when he heard Severus arrive in the fireplace. He was fixing himself a late night snack of tea and biscuits since he and Harry had eaten their supper at seven and that felt like ages ago. 

Remus poked his head around the archway to the parlor and gave a small wave to his housemate, clearing his throat a bit so as not to frighten him. "Severus?"

Severus turned towards him looking as tired and bedraggled as usual. Remus knew the other man was probably set to go right to sleep after his long work shift, but the kettle was on and it couldn’t hurt to ask. "Do you fancy something to eat?" he asked.

Severus paused, considering it. "What have you got?" He finally asked, setting the dragon hide case filled with ingredients and instruments down on the parlor rug. 

A few moments later they were both sitting at the dining room table, a rare place to meet when Harry wasn't with them. 

Since there were now two of them eating a respectable meal instead of Remus quietly squirreling away biscuits in the dark, Remus set the table properly as Severus helped himself to the cream and sugar. 

"So... how was work?" Remus tried tentatively, knowing his tendency to ask a lot of questions at the very least annoyed Severus. 

Severus stirred cream into his teacup as if the china was responsible for his sour mood. “Dismal,” he replied shortly, though again without the usual amount of venom he could produce when he wasn’t so tired.

Remus was debating with himself whether or not to ask another pestering question or let them both enjoy their biscuits in the awkward silence he’d become accustomed to, when Severus surprised him by speaking first.

“Tadger and Birchwood were fooling around like a pair of regular twats again. I swear: the unprofessionalism is astounding.”

“Sorry—‘Tadger?” ‘Birchwood?’” Remus asked.

“The no-talent dunderheads I work with,” Severus explained, waving a hand to brush away their significance. “Absolutely no artistry—no dedication to the craft whatsoever. It must be nice to clock in from nine to four everyday, brew the exact same basic remedies, the easiest ones, and carry on acting like a pair of misbehaved children.” Severus took a bite of his biscuit and chewed, still lost in thought about his two co-workers. 

Remus almost smiled to himself remembering the sallow, stern face of Severus in their seventh year as he expertly brewed his potions like the great brilliant twat he was. This small bit of information was the most Severus had disclosed to him since the afternoon of the record player and Remus was encouraged to keep the conversation going. “That sounds awful,” he said.

“You have no idea,” said Severus around his biscuit. He sniffed suddenly and quirked an eyebrow at Remus. “Were you having another smoke?” 

The cigarette was still smoldering in the ashtray Remus had fashioned in the kitchen where he’d left it just before sitting down with Severus. Remus shrugged. “Yes.”

“I don’t remember you being shrouded in a cloud of smoke in school…” Severus said slowly, pursing his lips “It’s fine to have a fag every now and then but if you’re going to start making a habit out of it—“

“Then what?” Remus snapped crossly, “I don’t do it around Harry if that’s what you mean. It’s just something to do. To occupy all the bloody time I have to do absolutely nothing.” Remus scowled at Severus almost delighting in the fact that he knew he could and that Severus would just scowl back. It was their routine.

“Well if you spent more time educating the brat instead of spoiling him, perhaps your time would be better occupied than inhaling a muggle carcinogen.” Severus snapped.

Remus rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Bloody hell, we’ve been over this a hundred times, I’m not spoiling him and he will speak when he is ready.”

Severus shook his head. “He doesn’t speak because he doesn’t need to ask for anything to get it. He knows he can just cry and point and you’ll get him whatever he wants.”

“I’m taking care of him!” Remus defended, a bit more shrilly than he would have liked.

“You’re babying him,” Severus insisted.

Remus snorted, “Well it’s a good thing he’s a bloody infant, isn’t it?”

“You’re a bloody infant,” Severus retorted.

“You’re a bloody infant! “Muggle carcinogen”—honestly! I’d dare you to sound more like a pretentious arse, but I don’t think it’s possible.” Remus said.

“What’s so pretentious about actually listening in Herbology instead of trying to catch a peek up Martha Hayworth’s skirt?” Severus said hotly. 

“I—what? Martha Hayworth? Where did you get an idea like that?” Remus laughed in surprise.

“You attended the Prefect Luncheon in our fifth year together,” said Severus.

“Yes, because we were both prefects...” Remus answered, wondering privately why this of all things was something Severus had remembered. “Miss. Hayworth imbibed a bit too much and made a veritable mess of the whole thing as your idiotic house is wont to do. Merlin, I completely forgot about that! How do you remember all that? That’s amazing,” Remus snorted, shaking his head. 

“I remember a lot of things,” Severus said quietly, his eyes meeting Remus’s meaningfully.

The smile dropped from Remus’s face. He raced through his mind to think of something to diffuse the situation. “It’s—I mean it’s funny because Martha actually was with Sir—“ He stopped, lips frozen in the shape of the name he’d been about to say before snapping his mouth shut.

Severus sneered. “What? Don’t want to say his name now? Coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t as dear and precious as everyone seemed to think he was?”

Remus glared back up at him, “On the contrary, I knew the night he betrayed and exploited my personal nightmare for the sake of a ridiculous prank. And to think I put my faith in him. I’m a coward no different from the death eaters,” he said, voicing a fear he’d been turning over in his head since that horrible night.

“You’re not a coward,” Severus said. 

Remus’s eyes snapped up in guarded curiosity.

“You transform into a mad beast once a month and go about crocheting doilies or whatever you do when I’m off providing for you as if nothing’s happened. You are not a coward, Remus Lupin. You’re just a fucking pussy,” Severus said evenly.

Remus considered this for a moment. “…That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said finally.

“Don’t get used to it.” There was a hint of a smile in the smirk on Severus’s face as he lifted the teacup to his mouth.

***

The thing was—living with Remus Lupin, boy werewolf, wasn’t as bad as Severus had anticipated. As long as Severus refused to acknowledge the fresh scratches and bruises that appeared on Remus’s body or the way his housemate would stumble around a bit more disoriented than usual, it was like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Severus was careful to stay clear of Remus when the man returned bedraggled from his transformation so that Remus would be less inclined to ask for help and Severus less inclined to offer it. If Remus wasn’t amenable to this arrangement, he’d yet to voice any complaints. 

Harry certainly had no idea what his primary caretaker was up to on those nights he spent tearing himself up in the old shelter out in the yard. These were the nights Severus decided to make the most use of his time with the child by trying to catch him up on his dismal vocabulary acquisition. The child could now produce two sounds, which were “Ba,” and a hissing “Sss” sort of noise that Severus believed could be the beginning of his own name. 

Several full moons had passed and to Severus’s increasing frustration, Harry absolutely refused to say more than, “Ba.” And when the child could not vocalize what he wanted, Severus refused to give it to him, ignoring Harry’s petulant cries until he wore himself out and fell asleep. It was the least he could do to supplement Remus’s weak parenting.

Severus was thinking about all of these things as he prepared himself for work. He’d been up most of the night with the crying brat who had only fallen asleep about an hour before Remus dragged himself up to his room to recuperate. Severus’s stomach growled and Severus scowled at how little control he had over his life. Thanks to Harry he’d be late and couldn’t stop by the kitchen before flooing to work. He buttoned his work robes up tight to the neck, grasped his suitcase by the handle, and walked curtly downstairs towards the parlor fireplace.

"Severus—hold on a minute," Remus whispered from up the landing. Severus paused at the foot of the stairs and turned to watch the other man pad down the steps pulling a ratty old robe around rattier pajamas. Severus inspected him. His hair was a mess and his flesh pale, a small bandage already applied to his temple but otherwise laceration free. 

He passed Severus and limped into the kitchen, returning with a small brown bag. "Here, it's… I made you a little something in case you get hungry at work and there are some other things in there too, like those little tangerines you're fond of and I saved some of the pudding from Tuesday." 

Remus passed the bag to Severus and in doing so revealed far more brutal looking wounds scattered up and down his arms. He saw where Severus’s eyes were and quickly edged down the sleeves of his robe, wincing as he did so. “Ah, sorry,” he muttered, pale cheeks coloring with embarrassment, “Haven’t gotten to all of them yet.” He again thrust the bagged lunch toward Severus who didn’t know if he was made more uncomfortable by Remus’s consideration or by the evidence of Remus’s night. 

Severus did like those little tangerines though. He cleared his throat and accepted the bag with a gruff, “Thanks.”

Remus didn’t say another word as he watched Severus retreat to the fireplace and for that Severus was thankful. 

***

Dust and ash whirled out of the fire place as Severus landed in it. He coughed and batted the settling soot away from his face. He stamped out his boots on the hearth and then decided it would be cleaner to just leave them. 

He could hear Harry’s cries carrying through the old house and felt himself grow warm with rage over his housemate’s uselessness. The fireplace was absolutely filthy and Severus felt the responsibility to clean it fell on Remus’s shoulders considering the werewolf never left the house. But the sound of Harry’s wails told him that Remus’s incompetence at hushing the child had once again prevented him from performing other simple tasks. He headed for the stairs with no intention of saying a word to Remus or James Potter’s colicky spawn.

“Severus,” Remus said, as he caught Severus marching indignantly up the stairs. “Severus!” he said a little louder when the man ignored him.

Severus turned and trained his dark eyes on Remus, “Yes?” He asked, tight lipped. 

“Don’t you think you should offer to help?” Remus asked coldly. He looked almost as exhausted and beaten as if he’d been through a transformation the night before, which Severus knew was not the case since Remus wasn’t due for another in about seventeen days. But Severus was also tired and wasn’t prepared to negotiate the fact. He let out a sudden bark of laughter, Remus registered with astonishment. 

Severus sneered, dropping his bags on the steps as he approached Remus and the screaming baby in his arms. He was so close that his minimal height advantage on Remus became apparent as Remus had to direct his eyes upwards to meet Severus’s. “I’ve an idea,” Severus said, voice terribly soft but trembling with barely concealed anger, “How about I trap myself in a pathetic, demeaning excuse for a career to support you because you’re unfit to work?” 

Remus flinched, but did not break eye contact with Severus or meet his eyes with any less determination. He opened his mouth to retort but Severus cut him off too quick.

“But I’ve already done that, haven’t I,” Severus snarled, “You do not understand the magnanimity of the disgrace it is to be forced to confine myself here when I worked so hard my entire life to achieve things far greater. You could not understand because you were never going to amount to anything better than this!”

“Now wait just a minute,” Remus shouted over Harry’s screams, which were getting louder as Severus’s voice had.

“You think this is what I want? To be trapped in this shitty house with a brat and a fucking werewolf?” He was red in the face and shaking now, and set Harry who was squirming and writhing on the floor before continuing to yell.

“I had dreams too, Severus! I had plans! None of them were staying here with you of all people—!” Remus shouted.

Severus advanced even further so that his nose was practically touching Remus’s. He looked absolutely livid. “Yes, me, the one who’s taking care of you. Smothered and bridled Severus, who’s never good enough in the eyes of morons like you and Tadger or Birchwood. My God, it’s exactly like my school days and I thought I’d escaped that nightmare!”

“Very nice, Severus, you always had a flair for the dramatic!” Remus bellowed, taking a big step away from Severus and drawing himself up to his full height, which was actually a bit taller than Severus expected. He hadn’t realized just how bad the werewolf’s posture was. “Poor Severus never gets exactly what he wants! I’m sick of it! I’ve had no company but that of a screaming infant for weeks and I’m about to lose it! It must be so difficult for you to be able to come and go as you please, to be able to choose a solitary life when you bloody well could have friends-!”

“Oh but Remus, you didn’t think very highly of my last group of friends, did you,” Severus sneered. “And dramatic?” he spat, “Please. I’m not the one chain smoking fags because they remind me of my dead muggle mum!”

Remus gasped, “Severus!”

“The fact that you can’t even handle a-!” Severus began.

“No, Severus, shut up!” Remus hissed, grabbing Severus by the arm and pointing behind him. Severus turned around and froze. 

Harry had stopped crying at some point during Remus and Severus’s screaming match and then somehow managed to heave himself however unsteadily onto his two small feet for the very first time. He now looked very confused and wobbled slightly, both chubby arms out for balance.

“What do we do?” Severus whispered, wide eyed.

“I don’t know, get down,” Remus whispered back, and carefully lowered himself into a crouching position on the floor. He held out both arms and beckoned the baby toward them.

“Come on, Harry, you can do it!” Remus’s voice cracked, still sore from yelling.

Harry was looking at his own feet for a moment and both men held their breath. He carefully lifted his right foot and placed it a ways in front of him.

“Severus, he’s doing it!” Remus whispered, elated.

“I’m going to spot him,” Severus answered, kneeling on the ground in between the two, ready to catch Harry if he fell.

Harry brought his other foot forward so that he was standing a whole step closer and looked up at both Remus and Severus for confirmation that what he was doing was correct.

“That’s right, Harry, just a few more!” Remus encouraged, smiling huge.

“Yes, Harry, see what you can accomplish when Remus Lupin doesn’t coddle you?” Severus added. 

“Fuck you,” Remus retorted, still beaming encouragingly into Harry’s eyes.

Harry wobbled a bit and Severus moved to catch him but Harry righted himself and continued to take steps. He reached out with both hands and was so close he could nearly grasp Remus’s outstretched ones. He tried to take a particularly daring step and fell squarely on his bum with a loud thump.

Severus gasped sharply and reached forward but did not catch him in time.

“Hooray!” Remus cried, clapping his hands enthusiastically.

Severus looked at Remus as if he were a mad man. “What are you doing?” he asked, appalled.

“Look, he doesn’t know how to react! Make it seem like he did a good job and he won’t cry!” Remus said through a giant fake smile and more applause. 

Harry did indeed look stunned by the fall and seemed to be open to cues on how to react.

“Yay,” Severus said, starting to clap himself. 

Harry’s confused expression broke into one of delight and he too began to clap his small hands as he giggled. Fall forgotten, he turned and crawled into the parlor, giggling and blowing raspberries all the way.

Remus and Severus stayed together on the floor for a moment in silence, both still caught up in the enchantment of Harry’s first steps.

“Merlin, I need a drink…” Remus murmured to himself.

“I’ll fix us one,” Severus said, picking himself up and heading toward the kitchen.

Two glasses of whiskey each, seven more whole steps for Harry, and an entire tray of Marzipan candies Remus had hidden away for a special occasion found the three asleep together on the parlor floor, soot and all.


	5. Breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the descriptive account of turning into a werewolf and the gory results of tearing yourself to bits.

Remus was in the claw-footed bathtub of the small upstairs bathroom soaking while Severus had a piss at the toilet not two feet away. 

“How was work?” Remus asked. 

“I already said I’d put him to bed, you don’t need to butter me up,” Severus muttered. 

“You know I’m not,” Remus retorted with the amiable sort of tone he reserved for when Severus was acting like a childish, self-conscious twat. The soap bubbles were crap and had already dwindled down to practically nothing. “And don’t forget his fourth is coming up quick. We’d better think of something better than last year or he’ll grow up to resent us,” Remus continued.

Severus tucked himself in and zipped up. “I reckon there are quite a few things he’ll grow to resent us for,” he said, flushing and turning the tap on to wash his hands.

“I wonder—should we invite some children from the town? He sees them sometimes when we go down to the playground but I’m not exactly invited to play bridge with their mothers,” Remus thought out loud, worrying his bottom lip.

“No,” said Severus. The idea of a house filled with neighborhood brats could not have seemed less appealing to him.

Remus snorted to himself. “I’m sorry—I just—I imagined you trying to handle a dozen children blowing party noise makers,” he smirked at Severus, who saw the challenge and narrowed his eyes.

“I could handle it,” he said defensively. 

Remus rolled his eyes, “I’m just joking, you git.” 

Severus regarded his housemate’s nakedness with the same objective disdain he would view cadavers at St Mungos. The fact that Remus was alive made him even less appealing to look at.

Harry’s small voice echoed from his bedroom down the hall, “Sevrus! Tuck me in and read me a story!”

“He’s coming!” Remus called back, giving Severus a pointed look.

Severus stepped into Harry’s room where the three-year-old was sitting on top of his blankets in the small bed that had replaced his crib. His bath had only been an hour ago and already his hair had dried into its usual disastrous mess, much to Severus’s chagrin.

“Sevrus, tuck me in!” the child repeated, pointing to the carefully folded duvet cover he was sat on. .

“Seh-veh-rus,” Severus corrected for about the hundredth time. It didn’t seem as though the child was going to let up on the skipped syllable any time soon, Severus thought sourly as he pulled back the covers. Harry climbed underneath Severus pushed the covers so tightly around him he could barely move, which of course made the toddler giggle as he tried to escape from his small quilted prison. “What do you say?” Severus prompted.

“Please,” Harry replied automatically and with a disinterest that made Severus clench his fists.

“No,” he chastised, “You say: ‘Thank you.’”

Harry shrugged, unruffled, “Okay.”

Severus sighed explosively, pushing his hair back with his left hand. He sat on the chair next to Harry’s bed. “Are you tired?” he asked, wishing to calculate how long he’d have to stay with Harry before retiring himself.

“I don’t know. I took a nap with Remus today because he got tired and then we went to sleep on the floor,” Harry explained. 

“You fell asleep on the floor?” Severus asked wearily. 

Harry nodded, “It was dirty and dusty and Remus said not to tell you and there was a huge spider.” He held his hands apart to display just how large the spider had been. 

Severus was dubious that there had actually been a two-foot long arachnid in the house but elected to allow Harry the fantasy this time. Instead of making a snide comment as he usually would, he leaned back in the armchair and crossed his legs. “What story do you want me to tell you?” he asked.

Harry’s eyes lit up and he took a large excited breath. “Tell one with about the half prince!” he requested, wriggling again in the duvet he was thoroughly encased in. The half-blood prince Harry had become familiar with in bedtime stories was only borrowing a name from Severus’s school days and was more likely to be found chasing dragons and saving princesses rather than stewing over his blood rights and heritage. Harry needn’t know that story.

“Excellent choice,” Severus said, and began to weave a fantastic tale for the three-year old. 

In his bath, Remus listened to their voices and smirked to himself.

After Harry had fallen fast asleep, Severus shut off the lamp and left the child’s room for his own. Remus was just exiting the bathroom wrapped in his bathrobe. Whether he’d forgotten or simply chosen to address it later, Remus did not bring up Harry’s birthday party again. Severus was certain that party planning fell more under Remus’s realm of expertise anyway, and wondered if he could get away with avoiding involvement at all. Remus gave him a small nod and a half smile as he retreated down the hall, wet hair leaving small splashes on the creaky hard wood floor behind him.

***

Harry and Severus were together again this night while Remus quarantined himself in the shelter out back. He had looked especially haggard as he’d left through the back door, a fact that Severus, with his now extensive medical knowledge, found difficult to ignore. But Severus was good at avoiding things that made him uncomfortable, so instead he and Harry were practicing penmanship on the floor in the parlor. Severus inscribed a number four on the length of parchment he recycled for Harry’s studies.

“What’s that say?” Harry asked, pointing at the scattered numbers and letters already dried on the page.

“Nothing,” Severus snapped, “Pay attention and copy this one,” he pointed to a number four.

Harry started to draw something on the page that might have been a house but was definitely not a number four. He wasn’t paying even an ounce of attention and Severus grit his teeth in exasperation.

“This is boring, can we play something else?” Harry whined.

“We’re not playing, we’re learning,” Severus argued.

“Sevrus, you know, the learning game really isn’t fun,” Harry insisted. He dropped the quill and folded his arms.

Severus sometimes thought Harry was riling him on purpose. Remus said that that was an absolutely mad thing to think but the mischievous look in the toddler’s eyes told Severus a different story. 

“Let’s build a big tower!” Harry said, shoving the educational materials aside on his way towards the box of blocks Severus had only just finished putting away. 

“Wonderful. I look forward to collecting all the pieces after you’ve knocked them all down about thirty five times,” Severus muttered under his breath. He rolled up the parchment and threw it back into the basket of teaching tools he’d taken to keeping by the hearth. He cast a disparaging look at the toddler who was casually humming a little tune as if he hadn’t just won a great battle against Severus Snape.

“Where’s Remus?” Harry asked suddenly, as he did every month. 

Severus paused, looking towards the back window and the full moon light making shadows on the grass, and gave him the same answer he always did, “He went out and he’ll be back soon.”

Harry was still far too young to understand the Remus’s condition and neither Severus nor Remus felt it was appropriate to explain it to him just yet. Remus was always back soon enough that Harry had forgotten he’d ever been gone.

Except after Severus gave Harry his bath, put him to bed, got him up in the morning, made him breakfast and lunch, Remus still hadn’t returned. When Harry asked where Remus was, Severus answered as usual, but was pushing down a growing concern. Remus should have been back by now.

By nightfall, when Remus was still not back, Severus left Harry napping in his playpen, pocketed his wand and stalked out to the old shelter. It was a mild summer and the mostly dead grass crunched under his feet loud in the silence of the night. He hauled the door open and called Remus’s name through the pitch-black opening. There was no reply. 

Climbing carefully down the steps, he entered slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. 

“Severus,” Remus’s voice, small and hoarse, wheezed from a corner of the cramped den.

And then Remus’s body came into view—naked, mangled and bloody. Severus’s stomach turned. For a fleeting moment he considered turning and running away. “What’s going on?” he asked, frozen on the spot.

“I think… I think I broke my leg… I’m not sure. I woke up and I couldn’t move,” Remus swallowed thickly, “I tried to move, but—”

Severus’s St Mungos experience took over for the part of his brain that had stopped working and he quickly assessed the situation. Remus had open and exposed wounds, possibly infected, broken bones for which Severus knew he had aid for in his work case and other possible injuries sustained within the last twenty-four hours that needed to be attended to immediately. 

“Stop moving, if you’ve got anything broken or fractured you’ll only make it worse,” Severus ordered, moving to crouch down by the crumpled man.

Remus let out a pathetic noise and Severus was floored by how powerless the man was, how little control he had over his physical state. It was unimaginable. 

“I need to get you into the house. It’s going to hurt,” Severus said grimly. He winced, pushing his arms underneath Remus’s ruined body and lifting him up.

“My clothes,” Remus croaked. The room was becoming clearer and now Severus noticed the pile of carefully folded clothing Remus had left with the night before. They were stained with almost black splotches of blood, as was the floor, in months—no years, Severus thought feeling sick to his stomach once more—of blood and flesh and hair stuck to the walls and the floor. 

“I’m going to carry you. Try not to move so much,” he repeated, dragging his eyes away from the hideous claw marks that had torn up the walls.

He carefully maneuvered him up the steps, and once outside the dark, cramped space, uttered an enchantment set Remus afloat in the air with Severus’s arms to guide him. They passed through the pantry, the light of the house revealing more scratches and tears in his flesh, blood dried in his hair. His leg was indeed broken, a bit of muscles and crooked bone exposed through the ripped flesh of Remus’s right calf. His toes were black and mangled, possibly broken as well. Severus cast a glance at Harry who was still asleep in the playpen as he carried Remus upstairs to his bedroom and laid him down on top of the blankets. 

Severus quickly retrieved his work case and started first to clean the dried blood and dirt from the most significant wound around the calf. Remus’s teeth were gritted in pain but he did not shout, even when Severus began to apply the disinfectant. 

He had to help Remus swallow the pain aid and the potion that would help his flesh mend faster, Remus’s lips and teeth dark with blood from a badly split lip and severed tongue. The werewolf, Severus thought with sickening realization, must have bitten through it. He felt a pang of something looking at the pathetic man before him and it surprised him to realize it was genuine pity—concern even. 

Remus was his partner now. 

Severus had to do better.

Remus only barely twitched as Severus uncorked healing salve and began to anoint the wounds on his feet and legs. His lips were wet with fresh blood now that Severus had cleaned away the clotting. He moves his fingers there, smoothing the pad of his thumb over it watching the salve heal the split lip in its wake. Remus's eyes met Severus’s, exhausted and clouded with pain but utterly gracious. Severus breath caught in his throat, his hand still cupping Remus's chin. 

“Sorry for not coming to get you sooner,” he muttered.

“Not your responsibility,” Remus rasped with some effort. 

Severus continued applying the salve, rubbing it gently over the wounds until they disappeared. 

“You’ll have to stay off of it for a day or two,” Severus murmured in reference to the mending calf. Remus’s eyes were closed now. He made a small hum of consent.

Severus had seen him before, had even seen the bite before, but never, ever like this. Three huge tears in Remus’s shoulder that had started his curse were raised and swollen and enflamed a lurid red.

Remus had scars everywhere.

Once it was done, Remus looked ghostly pale, raw, pink flesh rising to breach the gaps left by his own claws and teeth, breath coming slow and shallow. He was shivering, whether from the cold or something else, Severus did not know. Severus laid a quilt over him and quietly packed up his instruments and tools, lost in thought. He was leaving Remus’s bedroom when he heard the man whisper a tired, “Wait.”

“Will you stay?” Remus asked, drowsy and close to unconsciousness. 

Once more, Severus fought the urge to run.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want to be alone again,” said Remus quietly.

Severus set down his things and returned to his housemate’s bedside. He placed the palm of his hand against Remus’s shoulder as a gesture of comfort. It was like rocking Harry to sleep at night, Remus just needed to know he was there, and within a few moments he’d fallen into a deep sleep.

Severus watched his chest rise and fall, the bite on his shoulder becoming less enflamed as it seemed to settle back into the flesh. After some consideration, he took out a notebook and began to write.

June 26th, 1983

Subject: werewolf, male, Age: 23, Date of birth: March 1960  
Approximate date of initial contamination: 1963  
Years suffering affliction: twenty – no previous remedies attempted (?)  
Pt shows high tolerance for pain  
Initial Wound: bite, scar, three lacerations approximating on average 17-20   
Centimeters long.

Wounds sustained during last transformation: torn calf muscle, broken  
fibula, assorted lacerations, damage to tongue (bitten through) – bite   
becomes enflamed – raised – swelling appears to go down once other   
wounds are cleaned – catalyst?  
Blood, flesh samples collected – results pending

***

Harry appeared in Remus’s doorway at around 10 in the morning, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas. Summer sunlight streamed through the window and Remus had the creaky old windows open to let some fresh air into the stuffy bedroom. “Good morning,” he greeted, laying his book down on the bedside table. 

“Good morning,” Harry parroted, padding to the edge of the bed where Remus was sitting on top of the covers. Remus lifted the toddler onto the duvet beside him, wincing only a bit at the dull throb of pain in his arms and back.

“Can I stay in my jammies today?” Harry asked. 

“Of course, lovey dovey,” Remus smiled, brushing strands of unruly hair out of the child’s face.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Remus asked him. Harry nodded, his halo of curls bouncing around his ears.

After Harry was set back on the floor, he was quick to race towards the staircase. 

“Hold on a minute,” Remus called. They walked down the steps together. Harry had one hand on the bannister and both eyes trained firmly on his two feet as they made the journey. He jumped off the last step and spun around meeting Remus’s eyes with a toothy smile of pride.

“Well done, Harry!” Remus said. 

In the kitchen, Remus fixed porridge and a glass of milk for Harry. “What do you say?” he asked, placing the bowl in front of Harry.

“Please,” Harry said automatically, digging into his breakfast, his little feet swinging under the table.

“Thank you,” Remus corrected, smiling despite himself.

Harry sat in a chair at the head of the table. His old highchair was still pushed against the wall in the dining room gathering dust and various items that belonged to both Severus and Remus—books, parchment, quills, cardigans. For what purpose of saving it for, neither knew. It wasn’t as if they were expecting another child to join their mixed-up, hodge-podge of a family. But it had been in the house when they’d arrived, and much like the other relics left behind, it didn’t seem right to interfere with. Three years at Godrics Hollow and both Severus and Remus both felt like intruders in the house they lived in, afraid to really make it a home.

“Can we play a game?” Harry asked when his bowl was clean and Remus was washing a bit of porridge out of his fringe.

“What sort of game?” Remus said, carding his fingers through Harry’s wet, sticky hair, and considering giving him a bath before Severus came home.

Harry pulled out of Remus’s grasp and ran into the parlor. Remus sighed a laugh and walked into the parlor where Harry’s two small feet were sticking out from under a blanket.

“My goodness, Has anyone seen Harry? Is he… in here?” he exclaimed as he pulled open one of the cabinets at the foot of the stairs. Behind him, Harry giggled underneath his blanket. 

“What about here?” Remus asked, pulling up the corner of the rug and peeking beneath it.

“I’m here!” Harry shouted, throwing off the blanket.

Remus gave a theatrical gasp and sank down next to him, tickling him while Harry shrieked with laughter. “I found you!” he cried dancing his fingers quickly over Harry’s small tummy. 

An hour later found Remus sitting inside a blanket and pillow fort, sipping his fake tea while Harry made howling noises outside that were meant to represent a terrible storm. The books and blocks and toy trains were strewn strategically around the fort like a sort of obstacle course Harry stomped around, wreaking the destruction of the natural disaster he was emulating. 

Tiring of the hurricane storyline, he laid himself down by the opening of the fort with a blanket wrapped around him tightly. Remus set down his pretend teacup and peered out the flap of the fort. 

“I’m a baby. And somebody left me outside in a basket so now you have to take care of me,” he explained, causing Remus eyes to widen in shock. Harry had never brought this narrative up during pretend play before.

“Oh…” Remus said cautiously after a moment, “Where did the baby come from?”

Harry sniffled, theatrically, pulling his blanket closer and making his voice more high and wobbly than usual. “They found me in Alaska and they thought you should take care of me so you have to take care of me now.” 

Remus swallowed a lump in his throat. “Well, I… I’ve always wanted a baby,” he said carefully. He studied Harry’s expectant face for a while before leaning down to gather the bundle Harry had swaddled himself in up into his arms. Harry closed his eyes and Remus rocked him with concern blossoming in his chest. 

“Is this where we are going to live now?” Harry asked, still speaking in a baby voice. Remus stared out at the mess in the parlour, at the blankets and pillows that made up the fort, at the laundry waiting by main bathroom, at the framed photographs of James and Lily and their son—at all of the things that didn’t belong to him.

“Yes, it is,” he said softly.


	6. Wolfsbane

Harry’s birthday did pass rather uneventfully. Remus prepared minced pies—Harry’s favorite—and Severus purchased one small child’s broomstick as well as a beginner’s potions set. The latter was more for Severus than for Harry. They celebrated alone following one of Severus’s evening shifts.

Remus gestured at a recently acquired black eye and various bandages across his hands and arms when Severus asked him about the werewolf’s former plan to invite children from the neighborhood.

“They’d think I’m a battered wife,” Remus explained. “Who’s going to let their children play with him if they think his caregivers are having violent domestics all day?”

Severus knew the answer: no one. No one plays with the strange little boy whose parents can’t keep their liquor or their hands to themselves.

Harry, in his usual resilience, was the picture of glee and fell asleep full and contented, even though Severus and Remus were prepared to let him stay up past his bedtime on his special day.

***

Remus was lying on his stomach on his bed in his own room. Nothing quite as traumatic had happened since that first night Severus had taken to looking after him. Now Severus insisted on seeing him every morning following the transformations and scribbling notes in overflowing notebooks.

It was funny, really, that Severus’s hubris extended to believing he could correct an affliction that had eluded the greatest wizards for centuries. But it was Severus’s MO to act like a giant arsehole at all times and Remus thought it might be nice to at least let himself be pampered while Severus did so.

“The initial bite,” Severus began, applying a salve of his own creation to Remus’s wound, “Were there side effects you endured before the full moon?”

Remus yawned into his pillow and reached up to scratch his head. “Yeah.”

“Such as.”

“Rash. Fever. Vomiting. All of this stuff can be found in any medical journal, you know.”

“What sort of solutions were employed?” Severus asked, ignoring the mirthful tone of Remus’s voice.

Remus picked at the pilling bedspread in boredom. “I think they tried pretty much all of the popular methods at the time. Even stuff that was only myth or old wives’ tales, like taking baths in wormwood and vinegar. One summer my mum tried to have me exorcised, that was a riot. Oh! I remember one doctor prescribed a glass of salt water with every meal when I was about nine—that was dreadful.” Remus sighed. “My Da felt so guilty about the whole thing. He took me round to every wizard who claimed they had a cure and the worst part of it all was he was always so disappointed when it didn’t work out.”

“Were there any other remedies besides the ones you mentioned?” Severus gingerly screwed the lid onto the jar of salve and placed it back inside his work case. He continued on with his questioning, rather than dwelling on his and Remus’s mutual emotional damage from being their fathers’ greatest disappointments in life.

“Opium, rye, cinder, mistletoe, silver—in every manifestation—ash, a whole slew of absurd rituals too ridiculous to recount, mandrake root, every healing potion you’ve ever heard of. At one point it was all the rage to smack the werewolf on the head with knives and medallions made of silver so I spent my tenth birthday with a concussion,” Remus recounted wryly.

“And you were properly contained?” Severus dabbed his quill in ink and began to squeeze lettering inside the margins of an already heavily scrawled parchment.

“I never hurt someone, Severus, if that’s what you’re implying,” Remus huffed. “I escaped a few times but there was no one around for acres and acres. Just ruddy moor as far as you could see. That’s the only part I miss sometimes.”

“You don’t have an accent,” Severus observed out loud as if it had only just occurred to him.

“I could if you wanted me to,” Remus responded, letting the lilt of the north slip into his voice.

“No thank you,” Severus muttered.

“Oh, as if you’re so posh!” Remus teased with mock indignation.

Severus snorted, “Well, you are correct in that regard. I grew up in a lovely tenement walk-up flat in Cokeworth. It was the furthest thing from being ‘posh,’ but at least I didn’t have to suffer the indignity of romping around the northern countryside by myself like a fucking yokel.” Having dealt that blow, he shoved his papers in alongside the steadily growing collection of dodgy concoctions in his work case and made his exit, leaving Remus still prostrate on the bed.

“So, I suppose we’re done then?” Remus called.

***

For a few weeks, Severus neglected to bring up Remus’s lycanthropy or perform any tests on him again.

And Remus found that he missed the intimacy of the inspections as well as the borderline absurd quality of conversation they had brought even though, realistically, there was nothing Severus Snape could add to the field that hadn’t already been discovered.

No matter how much of a giant head Severus Snape himself possessed.

“Got any fours, Harry?” Remus asked, pushing thoughts of deeply needed personal interaction out of his mind.

“Go fish!” Harry shouted with glee. Severus, who’d been paying as little attention to the game as possible by staring out the parlour window, turned his head to scowl at the child.

“How about you, Severus, have you got any fours?” Remus asked loudly as he pulled a card for himself out of the deck.

“Have you heard of Wolfsbane?” Severus asked abruptly at the same time as Harry said, “Do you have any clovers, Remus?”

“I—“ Remus blinked between Harry and Severus in surprise.

“It’s something fairly new on the market,” Severus continued,

“Those are called ‘clubs,’ Harry dear,” Remus said distractedly.

“It’s a w-e-r-e-w-o-l-f preventative potion,” Severus said.

“Wolf?” Harry interjected curiously. Severus scowled at him again.

“Will you cut it out? You’re the one who’s taught him to spell, you berk,” Remus admonished, placing down the Six of Clubs for Harry to scoop up. “And of course, I mean, I heard whispers of it in the community when I was—“ he paused, glancing at Harry, “Before I was living here. Have you any eights?”

Harry searched his deck. Severus folded his arms. “So you’ve never experienced its effects,” he concluded.

“Go fish!” Harry shrieked with excitement.

“It’s not a cure.” Remus said shortly, “It’s just another bandage to put on a wound that will never heal.” He snapped a card from the pile in growing irritation.

“Poetic,” Severus said dryly, “It’s more than just a bandage, it would prevent the wolf  
from taking over your conscious and causing your human body harm. It decreases healing time, valuable time you can have back, it—“

“It’s not as if I haven’t considered it, Severus!” Remus exploded in exasperation.

“Do you have any Kings, Remus?” Harry asked.

“But it’s a matter of expense. We certainly can’t afford the ingredients. Not to mention it’s complexity, not just anyone can brew it; we’d have to hire a master to brew it and we can’t bloody afford that either. No, Harry, I do not have any Kings, go fish,” Remus said.

“Only you would accept this level of degradation,” Severus said.

“I’ve lasted 20 years just fine,” Remus snapped, “You should have seen the state of some of the lads I used to know on the streets.”

“Yes, definitely take everything you hear from a bunch of homeless, miscreant werewolves at face value. The ingredients are not as hard to come by for me as it would have been for them,” Severus scoffed.

“So what—the expense of the brewer—“ Remus began.

“There is no expense, I’m going to brew it,” Snape snapped irritably.

Remus gaped at his housemate.

“Remus, it’s your turn,” Harry whined.

“Sorry—I—Have you got any… Threes?” Remus responded, looking from Harry to Severus in frustration.

“Yep!” Harry said, handing over his second to last card.

“Severus,” Remus started, “That’s—it’s an extremely advanced potion.”

“Yes,” Severus agreed.

“Do you have any Twos, Remus?” Harry practically hollered.

“I’ve heard failure can result in death if the brewer f-u-c-k-s it up,” Remus added, running out of steam.

“I’m going to brew it. Perfectly. So shut up,” Severus said with so much steely confidence, Remus almost believed him.

Remus looked down at his hand and lifted a two of diamonds out for Harry, who whooped and sprang to his feet in celebration.

“I won, Remus, I won, I won!” Harry shrieked.

“Are you going to consent to helping yourself or not?” Severus asked, boredly inspecting his nails.

Remus gave Harry a defeated smile. “…Yeah, okay,” he relented.

***

The potion was ready by the next transformation. Remus said he didn’t know why he’d doubted Severus in the first place. Severus agreed and insinuated that Remus was a country bumpkin with no intelligence or respect for Severus’s prowess as a potions artist. Remus didn’t have anything to say to that.

Just before sundown, Remus took the Wolfsbane as instructed and in the morning when he emerged from the shelter, Severus was waiting in the kitchen. He had in front of him a plate of absolutely delicious looking stewed tomatoes and honeyed ham. There was none for Remus.

“Sit,” Severus instructed.

Remus sat.

Easily.

He was visibly shaken but he didn’t have a scratch on him and was struggling between not giving Severus the satisfaction of being right and genuine glee

“You look limber. How do you feel?” Severus began, quill at the ready.

“Strange,” Remus combed his fingers through his mousy hair. “It was just like I had heard. I was able to stay me the whole night. I mean, my body was gone but my mind felt like it was the same. I even ended up falling asleep,”

“And you awoke in human form or in wolf form?” Severus asked.

Remus winced. “I woke up when the dawn transformation began. That’s the one thing. Keeping my wits about me while in wolf form was wonderful, but being awake during the transformation itself felt like hell. I’ve never remembered that before. I remember everything.”

“I’ll need you to describe the sensations of the change,” Severus continued.

“Horrible,” Remus said, “Extremely painful—but short. Once I achieved either full form, the pain faded immediately. It was extremely disconcerting feeling my own muscles and bones reform. I don’t know if I can really describe it more than that yet.” He paused, grimacing. “It still gives me the chills to think about, to be honest.”

Severus made a face at the page he was scribbling on and nibbled on the end of his quill.

“It’s the first time I’ve really experienced it that way, but next time—“

“No. It’s fine,” Severus said shortly. He stood from the table. “Excuse me.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help smiling as he flexed muscles that felt fresh and unsore as if he’d spent the night curled up in his own bed. He shook his head at Severus’s bizarre behavior and turned into the kitchen to fix himself something to eat.

***

Months passed and the Wolfsbane stayed true. Remus did not develop any intolerances or immunities as some Wolfsbane brewers had suggested might occur. The effects were starting to visibly carry over into days in between transformations. Remus reported being less tired and even Severus had to admit he wasn’t as overall shitty looking.

Severus compiled this information in parchment, samples, notes, potions ingredients and trash that was scattered across his desk and overflowing onto all four walls of his study. His study, as Remus contritely observed on the 28th consecutive day Severus had returned to it immediately upon coming home from work, now resembled the living space of a borderline serial killer. Severus was standing, arms folded, regarding the mess when there was a knock on the door.

“What,” he replied, shortly.

“Dinner is ready, you should stop ossessing and come and eat with us.”

It was Harry.

Severus turned to him. “Obsessing,” he corrected automatically, and then, “Did Remus tell you to say that?”

“Yeah, what’s ossessing even mean anyway?” Harry asked, hands flying to his hips in a way that was definitely inspired by a certain lycanthrope’s bitchier affectations.

“It means Remus is a whinging twat,” Severus said, turning back to his work.

“Oh,” said Harry, as if that explained everything. He grabbed Severus’s hand and tugged. “What are you waiting, for let’s go,” he exclaimed. Severus regarded his research for another moment before finally kneeling and lifting Harry into his arms.

For a moment, Severus felt a twinge of guilt. Between this new project and maintaining his hours at St. Mungoes, dinners had been skipped frequently and he barely spent any time at all with Harry. Though the thrill of the chase of expert potions making was practically addictive, he found that he missed the mundane things, too—like teaching Harry his alphabet. There were so many projects he had in mind to start with Harry, so many things he could teach him when he had the time.

This project, though.

This project had taken precedence over everything else.

“…I think I’m on the verge of the most amazing thing I’ve ever done. The most amazing thing a wizard has ever done,” he admitted softly.

Harry, wanting supper, was mostly unimpressed.

\--

“Harry told me you said I was a whinging twat,” Remus griped, standing in the now refurbished shelter. After several successful Wolfsbane transformations, and a condescending comment from Severus, he’d cleaned out some of the more morbid details of the interior decoration.

“Kid can’t keep his mouth shut. I wonder where he gets that from,” Severus said witheringly.

“You don’t have your notebook,” Remus observed, ignoring the rude comment. He gestured at Severus standing empty-handed at the mouth of the shelter.

“I don’t need it. Tonight is different,” Severus replied.

“What are you planning to do now, ride me around in wolf form? Test my speed and agility? Feel how my winter coat is coming in?” Remus snorted. “The potion works and I’m very grateful for it. I even baked you several batches of ‘grateful muffins’ and ordered that bottle of ‘grateful firewhiskey,’ remember?”

“You won’t be becoming a wolf tonight,” Severus said, examining his nails with disdain.

Remus rolled his eyes as hard as he could. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Severus, I can promise you based on a bit of personal experience, I will indeed transform into a wolf tonight. A wolf with a charming and endearing personality,” he added, “but a wolf nonetheless. The Wolfsbane works. I honestly don’t know what else you’re trying to accomplish. You don’t have to be here with me.”

“You’ve not taken Wolfsbane tonight,” Severus said simply, giving Remus pause.

“Yes I did,” Remus said slowly.

“I’m trying something else tonight,” Severus said, still avoiding Remus’s eyes.

Remus stared at him. “You’re not joking,” he whispered, blood running cold. “Trying something else? There is nothing else, Severus!” his voice growing increasingly louder with panic.

“There is a cure,” Severus said firmly.

Remus gaped at Severus’s expressionless face, the man’s lips sealed in a straight line of conviction. “You’re mad,” he shouted, stumbling backward,.“Merlin, you’ve gone absolutely mad, you pathetic fuck! You fucking bastard!” His voice cracked with desperation as he leapt at Severus and frantically shoved him in the chest, trying to force him back up the steps.

Severus would not budge.

“Severus!” He was sobbing now. “Severus, get out of here! I won’t be able to control it and you’ll be killed, you fool! Who will take care of Harry?!”

Severus pulled his wand on Remus who recoiled in fright, but then turned it behind him and sent the door of the shelter, irreparably, straight off it’s hinges. Moonlight came streaming in, bathing Remus in its full glow. Remus fell to his knees, bracing his body and letting a desperate, howling wail.

And then nothing happened.

And then, still, nothing happened.

He stared at his own shaking, but very human hands and then up at Severus’s eyes, bright with dominance that would have rivaled the wolf on its worst night.

“When you’ve had enough dramatics for the night, feel free to join Harry and I in the parlour.” He turned on his heel and exited through the blown out shell of what used to be Remus’s prison.

And Remus was left trembling on his knees.

Human.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here are a few things I have to say about this chapter.
> 
> First of all I deeply apologize that this chapter took longer to post than it would have taken me to create a human life. Two things that contributed to this were that I moved house and then transitioned in and out of several jobs. 
> 
> In regards to Severus Snape, I believe this guy is bursting with potential. The scene in which he does the absolutely dramatic reveal that he’s cured Remus (and then has the nerve to accuse Remus of being dramatic) was always written and sort of encapsulates how I feel about him. That he is capable of anything when it serves his own interest. Like he could have always cured werewolves or done any number of incredible things, but he didn’t, simply because those issues were not immediately visible to him. Snape is a cool guy. He has a good heart, and he can do things so intensely, but he only takes on those challenges to add it to his personal resume. And it doesn’t matter if anyone knows he did it, because Snape doesn’t necessarily need to prove to anyone that he is great. Because he already knows that he is. 
> 
> Thank you very much to Marauder_Lupine for their patience with and commentary on this chapter. This is a much better chapter for it. 
> 
> And lastly, in the next chapter they finally bone so yeah look forward to that.


End file.
